Weakness
by silvermisery
Summary: When love is your greatest weakness, then are you the strongest man in the world.


Weakness

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me and my bank account, Harry Potter is not and will not ever be mine, unless JKR suddenly turns out to be my long lost aunt or something and leaves it to me in her will…but I'm Korean, so it's not very likely.

A/N: This was written in response to the Pure Arrogance Valentine Challenge, the rules of which I will post at the post A/N, since I don't like to skip down through these stuff to get to the story myself.

"And are you so scared to be weak sometimes?" she whispers in his ear, a last-ditch effort, appealing to his Malfoy pride which will never let him back down from challenges, to hell with the consequences.

He pushes her away, grey eyes cold and unreadable. She hates him like this; it is at these times that she remembers his heritage and sees his likeness to his father and recalls all the name-calling, the pranks, and thinks of the mark on his upper left arm which he is due to get so soon.

Which he will not refuse, despite all her hopes to the contrary, and because of which he is now pushing her away, now, here, and later, then, all their hopes for the future and for a time when they could be together, just them two, gone, dissolved like a shimmering illusion that never really was, punctured by the first harsh shove—not from Lucius, not from Harry and Ron as she had imagined it would be, but from Draco himself, and she feels her whole body clench in anguish and rage.

"Weakness," he hisses, "is unforgivable," and in these words she sees the figures of Lucius, of Narcissa, of Professor Snape, of those who have loved and not been requited, and knows that they seek only the best for him, but also that they are so, so misguided, and by the time they realize it, they may be too late.

He has never looked more like Lucius than he does at this moment, with his fists clenched at his sides, white-knuckled from the strength of his grip and bruises forming where his fingers dig into his palms, long white-blond hair perfectly in place, static but still with emotion, his aristocratic nose, his high cheekbones, the jutting chin finely carved from marble, grey eyes dulled with sorrow but smoking with rage, and she steps back slightly.

"And then, so, is love unforgivable?" she challenges, unable to just let him—let all her dreams, the hours they spent lying on the grass, laughing in the sunshine—fade away before her eyes into the darkness she knows will never let him free once claimed. "Is love, and happiness, and blessings, and all that come with it unforgivable? Is it so very hard to just let yourself go for once? To be, not who everybody thinks you should be, but who _you _think you should be?"

"You're one to talk!" he retaliates finally, pushed too far, too fast. "Always the good little girl, the perfect teachers' pet, the darling bookworm, aren't you? You spent all those years building up the mask of smart girl, and now you don't know what else to be, so you push yourself constantly, always striving to be best, always showing off, always studying harder, because what if someone else comes along and gets a better grade than you, what are you then?"

The words sting. The more so, because only he can see her well enough to hurt her so, only he has enough of her to break her, and then to heal her once more. Even Harry and Ron have never dreamed, never thought of her in this way, never once dared to search within the crevices of her mind—because who is she anyway but the smart one of the trio?

But this conversation is not about her, and she refuses to let him make it so.

"Don't try to change the subject, Draco," she says coldly, every inch a perfect Malfoy—and oh god, she thinks that she could be a Malfoy for him—Hermione Jane Malfoy, three secret words written in her diary and on scraps of paper and even on her essay once, words that sent a thrill through her, the shudder wracking her body, words that look as though they will never be seen anywhere else than in the puff of ashes exploding from the burnt remnant of the parchment as she throws them into the fire.

"If it's a weakness to be happy, don't you think it might be worth being weak sometimes?"

He flinches, actually flinches, at this, a physical flinch from something and someone that is not in the room, and his grey eyes stare into nothingness.

"Severus says—"

"Dammit!" she yells loud enough to wake the entire school as the tower reverberates with the echo of her shout.

"Just because he loved Harry's mum and she didn't love him back does _not _give him the right to mess your life up as well!" and her voice is cracking now and her eyes are feeling scratchy and red but she daren't stop to wipe them—"Just because your mum loved Severus in turn, and your dad loved your mum, does not mean that it's weak to love, just that it didn't work out for them! Your goddamn mentors are stuck in a love triangle, a twisted love triangle that never should have been in the first place, but just because their lives are fucked does not mean that yours should be too!"

She has gone too far, now, and she sees the fury exploding into little balls of white in his eyes. Around her, the tower starts to shake in the wind his wandless magic is calling up as his emotions flicker violently. The chandelier starts to sway, and beside her, a telescope crashes to the ground, fragments of broken glass tinkling in protest as the brass outer tube rolls to a stop by her feet. Despite the fact that she knows he would never knowingly hurt her, she also knows that his magic is out of control, and that it is not safe for her to stay any longer.

As she turns to leave, she whispers something in his ears, dashing out the door and slamming and locking it. Behind her, there is a tremendous crash as all the supply closets nearby are broken open as the supplies stored inside them spontaneously combust, and an incoherent yell of pain, fear, and rage rattles the window glass.

She sits at the Great Hall and stares at her plate, loaded with French toast and pancakes and bacon and sausages and poached egg by well-meaning friends who are worried about the dark circles under her eyes and the sudden looseness in her clothes.

It has been a week since the confrontation. It has been a week since Draco Malfoy has been seen outside his rooms. The silver fork on her plate suddenly tips and its head drops onto the table with a dull thunk. Hermione puts her head into her hands.

Suddenly, she feels very, very tired.

"Hermione? Mione, are you all right?" Ron's voice—or is it Harry's, she can't even tell anymore, her whole life is messed up and the world is spinning around her and colors, sights, people, voices are all blurring into one mindless, meaningless canvas of chaos.

She stands up and leaves, ignoring the worried voices of her friends behind her. They mean well, but they stopped understanding years ago.

"Hermione? _Hermione!_" she stops dead in her tracks as the one voice she has been longing to hear, the only voice that has the power to bring her back from the terrible vortex in her mind, echoes throughout the corridor that leads to the Astronomy Tower on the fifth floor.

Stops, turns, stares at the apparition coming toward her. He, too, is unwashed, unkempt; his eyes have dark circles under them that mirror hers, and his fitted clothes are too loose for his sparse frame. But his face is lit up with a smile brighter than any she has seen on his face when he was healthy and whole, and he is holding out his hand.

Slowly, incredulously, she stares at him, until he is close to think, and she snakes up an arm and grabs him by his hair and pulls his head down to meet hers. The shock of their lips meeting is electric; cold and warm coming together in a burst of something, she doesn't know what, and it sends thrills down through her body as she tastes him again for the first time in so long.

"Damn, Hermione, I missed you," he whispers into her mouth, and she knows that it is his way of apologizing to her, and she notices that he is wearing short sleeves, and sees no dark splotch on his upper right arm, and thinks that she might just pass out—which would be highly embarrassing, but she is too happy to care.

And just like that, he is gone—a phantom, leaving no trace of his appearance but her hair, which is tousled, her shirt, which is unbuttoned, and a smile on her lips, because she knows that this time, he will come back.

And slowly, she opens her hand into which he has pressed something and stares at the small sweet inside.

It is pink, pink against the white of her hand, small, heart-shaped, one of those silly little candy hearts that lovers gave to one another on Valentine's Day, with sentimental writing on it. Gravely, she turns it over and reads the words that she whispered to him on that fateful day one week ago.

_When love is your greatest weakness, you will be the strongest person in the world._

Fin

Be my Valentine Challenge!

MUST HAVES!

1. Sweetie Hearts (those little hard lolly heart with words written on them)

2. Love --- this has to be requited but the pairing does not necessarily have to be in a relationship with their love (it can be unknown)

3. Canon pairings are not welcome :D (no Hermione/Ron, Remus/Tonks, Harry/Ginny etc.) Write outside your comfort zone, any side pairings must NOT be canon compliant.

4. Romance

5. Pick one of the following quotes (one must be used but you may utilise all of them)

"Love is a friendship set to music." _**E. Joseph Cossman**_

"I love you - those three words have my life in them." _**by Alexandrea to Nicholas III**_

"There is only one happiness in life, to love and be loved. " _**George Sand**_

"When love is your greatest weakness, you will be the strongest person in theworld. " _**Garman Wold**_

"If I know what love is, it is because of you. " _** Herman Hesse**_

"Sex alleviates tension. Love causes it. " _**Woody Allen**_

6. Happy endings a must! (you may fill your fic to your hearts desire with angst but it must end with happiness!)

7. Two participants only in the main pairing.

8. Must be set in the HP world, no Muggle world allowed! The entire fic/oneshot etc must be contained within the HP universe. (Use your imaginations, make up magical places but no jet setting to Muggle Paris for example) :D

Length:- 1000 words +

Category:- Every category is welcome!

Entries Close:- February 13th 2008

Characters:- All Welcome!


End file.
